city, their history would have
been painted in far other colours than those which have so long
chequered its surface. This, however, has not been given to us; and
perhaps it never will be given. As the soul is clothed in flesh, and
only thus is able to perform its functions in this earth, where it is
sent to live; as the thought must find a word before it can pass from
mind to mind; so every great truth seeks some body, some outward form in
which to exhibit its powers. It appears in the world, and men lay hold
of it, and represent it to themselves, in histories, in forms of words,
in sacramental symbols; and these things which in their proper nature
are but illustrations, stiffen into essential fact, and become part of
the reality. So arises in era after era an outward and mortal expression
of the inward immortal life; and at once the old struggle begins to
repeat itself between the flesh and the spirit, the form and the
reality. For a while the lower tendencies are held in check; the meaning
of the symbolism is remembered and fresh; it is a living language,
pregnant and suggestive. By and bye, as the mind passes into other
phases, the meaning is forgotten; the language becomes a dead language;
and the living robe of life becomes a winding-sheet of corruption. The
form is represented as everything, the spirit as nothing; obedience is
dispensed with; sin and religion arrange a compromise; and outward
observances, or technical inward emotions, are converted into jugglers'
tricks, by which men are enabled to enjoy their pleasures and escape
the penalties of wrong. Then such religion becomes no religion, but a
falsehood; and honourable men turn away from it, and fall back in haste
upon the naked elemental life.

[Sidenote: The last form of the corruption of Catholicism.]

This, as I understand it, was the position of the early Protestants.
They found the service of God buried in a system where obedience was
dissipated into superstition; where sin was expiated by the vicarious
virtues of other men; where, instead of leading a holy life, men were
taught that their souls might be saved through masses said for them, at
a money rate, by priests whose licentiousness disgraced the nation which
endured it; a system in which, amidst all the trickery of the pardons,
pilgrimages, indulgences,--double-faced as these inventions are, wearing
one meaning in the apologies of theologians, and quite another to the
multitude who live and suf